


Reunion

by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)



Series: Fortune Favour Me [13]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-explanatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

"Is it always like this?" Alistair whispered as a merchant in gaudy robes bowed and left the dais.

The throne room was packed full of people from all over the country: merchants, minor nobles, ambassadors - she spotted what looked like an Orlesian noble and at least one dwarf - and even a few elves.

"When you hold court, yes," Eilin replied. "Though I imagine most people just want to see their new king."

"It's the shiny crown, right? It makes me look pretty."

Laughing, she gazed over the sea of faces, trying to pick out people she knew. She recognised Arl Bryland's daughter whispering to a few finely dressed noblewomen, and a pale and wan Arlessa Isolde. Her heart lifted for a split second when she caught a flash of dark auburn hair in the crowd, but she pushed it away. Fergus was dead, and she'd resigned herself to that a long time ago. But she'd hoped maybe, with the Blight over...

"Who's next?" she asked the seneschal.

The man stepped forward and began to unroll the parchment in his hand, and she turned away, catching Alistair's eyes. He looked almost as bored as she was - well, maybe bored was a little too simple a description. She'd spent the last week in bed recovering, and her wounds itched under their bandages, and she needed sunlight. But more than that, the city was half in ruins and needed rebuilding. Corpses in collapsed houses and on the streets meant disease, and thousands of injured people needed aid. And here they were playing at being king and queen.

"Lord Fergus Cousland of Highever."

An utter silence fell over the dais as the gaze of a half dozen people turned on the seneschal. Eilin heard the name like a whisper in her ear, her fingers pausing the rhythmic tapping on her chair. She glanced at Alistair and some part of her mind noted how unsurprised he seemed. Denial took up the rest of her thoughts.

 _Someone's forgotten who I am_ , she thought, brow furrowing. _There was some sort of mistake, or it was a joke. A very poor joke._

But there was a man approaching the dais from the crowd and, oh, she recognised that hair and the smile that looked so like Father's.

The man dropped to one knee on the dais. Heart in her mouth, Eilin stared at him, studying him, trying to find what the trick was. Battered armour, a glint of grey hair at his temples, shadows under his eyes-he looked like a man who'd been through a great deal in a short amount of time.

"Rise," Alistair said a little hesitantly and glanced at Eilin, whose eyes followed the man's every movement.

"Your Majesty," Fergus murmured, like he appeared out of nowhere everyday. "Lady Cousland."

Hands shaking, Eilin rose from her chair. Tall as she was, Fergus towered over her, and it was like they were back in Highever again - him grinning like a boy, eyes dancing like this was all just a big joke.

"I was a little surprised when I heard my sister was not only a Grey Warden, but leading Ferelden into battle," he said, the grin turning into a smirk. "The stories didn't say anything about you helping to rule the entire country as well."

When she could finally trust herself to speak, her voice was hoarse. "How?"

Fergus's smile faded slightly. "Wounded. My scouting party was attacked by darkspawn, and I lost all of my men."

"I see."

Conscious of every pair of eyes in the hall on them, Eilin turned to Alistair, who rose from his chair.

"This is Fergus," she told him, the tremble in her voice betraying her. "My brother. And this...this is Alistair. My...betrothed."

Fergus's eyebrows rose, and he shot a glance at Alistair. "You didn't tell me about that part."

"I had other things on my mind."

Eilin shot an incredulous look between them, and slowly the surprise turned into a frown.

"I see."

"It's a long story," Fergus said, looking sheepish. "I can explain. Really."

"Oh, I'm sure you can." Smiling, Eilin turned to Alistair. "Would you excuse me? I think my brother and I need to have a long talk. And then you and I need to have a long talk."

Alistair had the grace to look abashed. "Of course." He squeezed her hand briefly before moving back to the throne. She looped her arm around Fergus's and lead him off the dais.

"Out of all the men to pick," he whispered in her ear as they exited the throne room. "You would pick a king, wouldn't you?"

Her laughter echoed off the high beams in the corridor, and she shook her head as the doors closed behind them.


End file.
